A
few hours for closure. That's what he told me, so here I am walking
through the parking lot of the high school. I won't go inside, can't
do it. It's been four years since the tragedy, but the pain is still
fresh. I see the
kids getting out of their cars, riding their bikes and walking
through the lot. They're laughing and playing around. I should be
there with them. There's
the bell. Kids are rushing to get into the building; they can't be
late for class. I'm standing in the middle of the lot; people are
passing me on both sides. Do they know who I am? Do they remember
me? The kids are
gone, all inside learning, thinking, and planning their futures. I
should be with them. I should be planning my future but I have no
future, there is only the past. I
walk around the campus; the buildings look no different than they did
the last time I was here. There is the main building made of tan
block. The gym, locker rooms, and the shop buildings in the back were
cinder block painted white. The trees and bushes are a little bigger,
but other than that, there's not much change. Did I really expect the
school to be that much different? How
can I have closure when I'm still so upset? I would probably cry if I
could. I'm walking around the school, angrier by the
minute. "Why
did you send me here?" I yell to the only one that could hear. I
wait for an answer, but there's none to be heard, so I continue my
trek around the school. Finally,
I make my way around to the front of the school. I see the large
memorial that the school had built, it's right next to the flagpole.
The memorial is surrounded by fresh cut flowers. I walk up to it and
first trace the names of my friends with my finger, a tear slides
down my cheek. I wipe the tear off my face. It's real! For the first
time in four years, I can cry. I can feel the marble under my
fingertips! The last name that I trace is my own. "Thank
you, Lord, for sending me back to Columbine."

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